Choices
by TravelingSong
Summary: "She had wanted to run away. From the last shards of her life, from Raymond Reddington. But then she remembered the way he looked during their final conversation."


This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so please review and let me know your thoughts. I have a couple of other fic ideas, but we'll see how this one goes first.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist. Shame, really.

* * *

_None of it is worse than losing you._

It was a declaration. Of what, she couldn't be sure. But the phrase wouldn't leave her alone, kept haunting her, kept him in her thoughts. She had wanted to run away. From the last shards of her life, from Raymond Reddington. But then she remembered the way he looked during their final conversation. When she had told him she couldn't do it, couldn't keep on living this way. One instant of despair, of defeat. Slumped shoulders as if the weight of her response had physically hit him. Maybe it had.

She closes the door.

She knows where to go.

ooooooooo

They sit next to each other, shoulders almost touching, heat emanating. He wants to move in closer, wants to hold her hand like he had done many months ago on that bench. But he hesitates. Doesn't want to startle her, doesn't want to make any presumptions. She looks beautiful. Exhausted, yes. Broken even. But beautiful. He wishes he could tell her.

He awakes from his thoughts when he feels her head on his shoulder. She asks him if she could stay, at least for this one night, after everything that had happened. After her world got turned upside down.

And his face lights up. He nods silently. Kisses her hair because it feels right. Because she's here with him. Because she chose him.

"Stay as long as you'd like."

She turns to look at him and sees the promises in his eyes. He would keep her safe. He was not a monster. And maybe it was the adrenaline still rushing through her veins, maybe it was the memory of the look on his face when she got out of the taxi, maybe it was the only logical outcome for this earth-shattering day, but she felt courageous. She felt brave. And as she leans in closer, Red looks at her in disbelief.

_"You know the problem with drawing lines in the sand?"_ He had asked her that question a long time ago. _"With a breath of air, they disappear."_

Their lips touch. All lines vanish.

It's a gentle kiss, romantic even. When it's over, his taste still lingers on her lips. It's intoxicating. He carefully touches her arm, without purpose really, only to savor the warmth of her skin. Moves his hand up and down. She hears him sigh and closes her eyes, hoping that they could stay forever in this rare moment of peace.

Red's soothing voice is the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.

"Stay as long as you'd like, sweetheart."

oooooooooo

Hours pass. Day turns into night. She's still here. Asleep.

If the sound of her slow breathing was the only thing he'd hear for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man.

She had fallen asleep in his arms. He had carried her to the bedroom next to his. Had put her down on the bed, kissed her temple. Had failed to resist the urge to touch her soft hair once more. To share the same air. Had finally decided to stay with her. Not next to her, he wouldn't dare, but in a chair on the opposite side of the room. Telling himself that she needed him, too. Hoping.

He could have never predicted the events of the last hours. When he saw her head shake, he knew that he had lost her. But he had put on a smile, while he could feel the walls crushing down, his heart breaking. Still, his mask remained in place. If she had looked at him carefully, she might have seen a brief moment of despair, of disappointment. He had swallowed a little too hard, his smile appeared a little too feigned. But she hadn't. And he wouldn't beg her to stay.

It was her choice. It had always been her choice.

He had packed his bags, convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. Felt tears in his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so lost, so vulnerable. She had done this to him. It didn't matter now. He had put on his coat and fedora, grabbed the last bag, and closed the door. It was an end. His second chance was over. And then he had seen a cab come up the driveway.

oooooooooo

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, so innocent. He tried to memorize every little detail of the sight in front of him. How her skin glistened in the hazy moonlight, the outline of her body under the crisp sheets, the sound of her breathing. Again.

Lost in thought, he barely notices her eyes open. The confused look on her face, just for a brief moment. The contentedness that washes over her when she realizes it's just the two of them now. And the slight nod when his eyes pose the unspoken question.

He gets up, slowly, and approaches the bed. Takes off his tie and his vest. Smiles at her (_God, she's so beautiful_). And lies down beside her.  
His arms encircle her and she gets lost in his warmth, in the closeness of his body against hers and how right it feels. How safe.

And for the first time she doesn't ask why. She doesn't seek any answers, doesn't question. For the first time, the past doesn't matter.

This is now.

This is real.


End file.
